Make Up
by Big J Bonk
Summary: (Part 4 of Perfect AU, but can be read independently) T.K.O. spends a rather eventful day with Carol. Drama, fluff, and fashion hijinks ensue. Oneshot. Now with official cover.


**Heyo! Here we are with the fourth installment of my little oneshot series! (Don't worry, you shouldn't need the first three to get this one. I've provided a little context.)**

 **I honestly expected this to be around 3k words, but it ended up longer than Permanence. Whoops. :P Because of that, it feels to me like it kind of runs on, but it works. Also, P.K.O.'s not even mentioned here. Double whoops.**

 **Enough of that. Prepare for a little drama and mounds of family fluff.**

* * *

T.K.O. didn't wake up in his own bed.

Immediately on alert, he threw the covers off and jumped to his feet, ready to beat the snot out of whoever had kidnapped him. Except, he belatedly realized, that wasn't what happened. There were small toys and some POW cards scattered across the floor, posters depicting P.O.I.N.T. heroes on the walls, and... Cob, the clothes. He was wearing baby blue footie pajamas. Footie pajamas! At that point, it wasn't too hard to guess where he was.

"Stupid K.O.," T.K.O. muttered. "Must have pushed me out while I was sleeping."

He growled, wondering why K.O. would do something like that, but then he remembered that it was Saturday. Carol had told him that they'd spend the whole day together to go shopping. He couldn't say he looked forward to the hugs and kisses and heartfelt conversations he knew were to come, but he _would_ like to get some shirts. He was sick of wearing K.O.'s work clothes all the time.

Speaking of clothes, there was absolutely no way he was leaving the room in the monstrosity that was his alter's sleepwear. He made his way to the closet, and was horrified to find it filled to the brim with vests and tank tops. He groaned; this dope seriously had nothing darker than that stupid blue vest.

Well, no, that wasn't entirely true. He did have a dark blue hoodie. It was a little too warm outside for it, and it totally clashed with his complexion, but anything was better than those cursed pajamas. At least the dolt had decent shorts.

T.K.O. peeked his head out of the bedroom door, looking both ways down the hallway. Satisfied that the coast was clear, he darted into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. Once there, he snooped around for a brush. It wasn't hard to find K.O.'s, eyesore shade of red that it was. It looked like it hadn't been cleaned out for a couple of days, but he mentally shrugged. It was basically his hair, anyway.

After grooming himself just enough to rid his unruly hair of any tangles, T.K.O. made a beeline for the makeup. Of course the eyeliner wasn't quite his color, but it would do. Some mascara could be a nice touch, though. The darker he could make himself, the more likely he was to draw attention away from K.O.'s ugly hoodie. He'd definitely be getting a purple one today.

Once he'd freshened up, T.K.O. left the bathroom and made his way to the kitchen to make himself breakfast. Not surprisingly, Carol had beaten him there, though luckily Mr. Gar had already left for work. "Morning, T.K.O.! I thought I'd heard you up. Hope you like pancakes!"

T.K.O. grunted. It was better than whatever cereal he might have found, in any case. "Whatever. Got any whipped cream?"

"We sure do," said Carol, "but you're not having that with breakfast. If you want something sweet, though, we have plenty of syrup."

T.K.O. rolled his eyes. "What's the difference? They're both pure sugar anyway." Still, he made no further complaints, even when the pancakes turned out to be plain- at least, until he drowned them in syrup. He would never admit out loud that the meal was delicious, even without the sugar-foam he would have preferred.

After breakfast, Carol tried to get T.K.O. to brush his teeth. He grumbled, spat, and fought her on the issue, but he begrudgingly gave in when she told him about the spare toothbrushes under the sink. Once that was done, they got into the tank-car, which Carol was quick to turn on. "T.K.O., buckle up, please."

"As if," T.K.O. scoffed. "A crash isn't gonna kill me, you know."

"I'd still feel much better if you fastened your seatbelt," said Carol, smiling patiently.

T.K.O. smirked. "No."

Carol turned the ignition off. "Alright. Then I suppose we'll sit here until it's on. I can wait."

What a classic parent trick. "Fine. But I _could_ just steal your credit card and go by myself. You couldn't stop me." He wasn't planning anything of the sort, but she didn't need to know that. She thought he was an awful person anyway, so it wasn't like it was hard to believe. Just because she'd suddenly decided to be a mom to him didn't mean he'd let her keep him under her thumb.

"You're right. I can't stop you," Carol laughed, "but I think you're above things like that now. K.O. speaks pretty highly of you, you know."

...Why did he agree to this whole "being nice" thing again?

T.K.O. lasted about four minutes before finally groaning and slamming his belt into its buckle. "Whatever. I would never hear the end of it, anyway."

Carol chuckled a bit, then turned the car back on. "If you say so."

"Don't patronize me!"

The drive was longer than T.K.O. expected it to be. He'd assumed that Carol was taking him to the bodega, and became suspicious when he saw it fly by. "Where are you taking me?" he demanded.

Carol looked into the rear-view mirror, watching the plaza disappear behind them. "The bodega is more of a hero supply store slash tourist trap than a convenience store. For our purposes, I thought the mall would be a better place to go."

"Ugh, the mall?" T.K.O. droned, curling his lip. "As if there weren't enough people at the plaza."

"One big, crowded place with everything you need is better than a bunch of smaller, equally crowded places, right kiddo?" asked Carol. Rather than giving her a proper response, T.K.O. crossed his arms, pressing his cheek against the window and watching the rocks and streetlights go by. When did she become such a cocky know-it-all, anyway?

It didn't take them long to get to the nearest city. T.K.O. saw the mall long before he saw the "now entering" sign; it towered over every other building by several stories. The alter gawked, frankly feeling quite intimidated by the sheer size of the building. Places like this were where teenagers went to rot and screaming kids spent fifteen technos on off-brand chocolate. And he was supposed to spend an entire day in this place.

Carol spent a solid five minutes searching for a parking spot, going in zigzags until someone pulled out, and she immediately took her chance, angering some other middle-aged lady in the process. They then got out of the tank-car, T.K.O. pointedly walking across the parking lot ahead of Carol. However, he stopped and stared just after the automatic doors.

T.K.O. knew that malls had lots of people, but he never could have expected anything like this. The ground floor was completely covered in people, so tightly packed that he couldn't see the ground beneath their feet. Even the stores themselves were obscured by the sheer concentration of the masses. That was nothing compared to the noise. The mall, huge as it was, turned every child's scream and doting parent's murmur into an indistinguishable, deafening roar. T.K.O. couldn't hear himself think over the din of the writhing crowd.

He didn't even notice that Carol had taken his hand until he was suddenly being pulled through the crowd. Being inside of it was far worse than being on the edge of it; strangers pressed in on him from all sides, pushing him every which way. He tried to lift his head above it, but the people towered over him, crushing him like coiled iron bars and blotting out the too-bright fluorescent lights overhead. The masses surged against him, squeezing, forcing the air out of his lungs. He tried to take it back in choked gasps, finding only the overwhelming scent of pretzels, body odor, and mothballs. Spots danced behind his eyes, and the sounds, the heat, the touches all became too much to bear.

T.K.O. wrenched his arm out of his mother's grip, turning on his heel and running. He shoved stranger after stranger aside, forcing his way past anyone and anything that came in contact with him. Within seconds he saw the entrance, sunlight pouring through it like a beacon. A few more feet, a few more steps and he'd be-

The doors slid open, and T.K.O. fell backwards onto his rear as he collided with something solid. He looked up, up, up at the person he'd run into, an enormous tree trunk of a man who looked both surprised and offended by the boy at his feet. T.K.O. bared his teeth, a feral growl rumbling at the back of his throat. He rose to his feet, shocks of energy dancing at his fingertips, glaring a challenge at the man who _dared_ to get in his way.

And then someone else made their way between them, thick, muscular legs clad in purple blocking T.K.O.'s view. "I'm very sorry, sir," Carol apologized. "He managed to get away from me for a second there."

"Learn to control your kid," the man grouched, nudging past her and assimilating himself into the throng of people.

Carol glared sternly after the man, then turned it on T.K.O. the second he was gone. "T.K.O., what has gotten into you?! You can't let go of my hand like that! We could have been separated, and who knows how long it would take to find you again!"

"I _hate_ this place!" T.K.O. shouted, his face beet red. "Why would you bring me here?! This place sucks, the people suck, and I _hate it!_ "

Realization dawned on Carol's face. She looked back at the crowd, already filling in the path that T.K.O. had made, some of those closest giving the pair reproachful looks. She turned to T.K.O., still red in the face and looking like he couldn't quite catch his breath. "Oh, T.K.O., I'm so sorry. I didn't realize... If I had known crowds scared you so much-"

"What?! I wasn't- I'm not scared!" T.K.O. argued. "I just don't want a bunch of strangers touching me!"

"Why don't we go shopping somewhere else?" Carol suggested. "No, it's a Saturday, everywhere will be this busy... Maybe we could push it to Monday? I'm sure K.O. wouldn't mind taking the day off-"

"I'm not scared," T.K.O. insisted, massaging his temples. He needed to calm down. He knew that the consequences would be dire if he didn't, for those around him and, more importantly, for himself. "I'm not scared. Let's just get this over with so I can get out of here."

Carol hesitated. "Are you sure? Because we could always-"

"I don't need you to baby me," T.K.O. growled. "I told you I'm fine."

Carol clicked her tongue, uncertain. Going through with the shop seemed like a terrible idea with a superpowered kid who couldn't handle so many people, but T.K.O. was incredibly stubborn. He'd already committed himself to the shopping trip, regardless of his feelings on the matter; anything less he likely considered a show of weakness. Whether she liked it or not, he'd made the choice to put on his tough guy act, crowd or no crowd. All she could do, it seemed, was make things easier on him. He looked a little better already, and it was best to keep things that way.

"How about this," Carol began. "See that door over there?" She pointed behind herself and to the right. It took T.K.O. a second to spot it, but once he did, he nodded. "Behind it's a flight of stairs. Most people stick to the escalators, so it should be empty. The upper levels won't have nearly as many people as down here. Think you can make it?"

T.K.O. hid his expression behind a sneer. "What do you take me for, some sort of weakling? I'm pretty sure I can get to a door."

"Alright," said Carol, "hold my hand as tight as you can, and if someone gets too close, just stay focused on me, alright?"

"Or," T.K.O. said as he floated a few inches above the ground, "I could just do this."

"...Or you could just do that," Carol echoed as T.K.O. hovered several feet up over the crowd, making her way through the sea of people to keep up with him. Really, it was such a simple solution. She'd forgotten T.K.O. could fly; so did he, probably. It was better not to ask.

In a matter of seconds, mother and son reached the stairs. Carol opened the door, T.K.O. opting to stay airborne as they ascended. Arriving at the second floor, T.K.O. looked around. While there were still a lot of people, they were spread out far thinner than on the ground floor. He'd be able to walk around without touching anyone, at any rate. It also meant that he could see the mall for what it was. There were stores upon stores in every direction as far as the eye could see in all kinds of colors, leaving no part of the walls bare. A nearby stand showcased a tower of remote-controlled cars, while another advertised an array of carnival food. T.K.O. was overwhelmed by the assault on his eyes, ears, and nose, but not in the oppressive, suffocating way that the floor below had provided. Instead his mind raced to comprehend the seemingly endless possibilities; look at all the junk he could waste his mom's money on!

Spotting a store with a noticeable absence of pastel or neon (or any bright colors, really), T.K.O. made a beeline for it, leaving Carol to weave between people in the hopes of catching up. Of course he'd run to the first Hot Take he saw.

T.K.O. excitedly scanned the narrow aisles, picking up and inspecting item after item. He was surrounded by keychains, mugs, music CDs, and all sorts of merchandise for both obscure and mainstream media. Shirts of all kinds adorned the walls, printed with designs from the Kaktus Krew to RPG World to sayings like "Blorpers Gonna Blorp." And everything was pleasantly, perfectly dark and eerie.

By the time Carol found T.K.O. (which wasn't difficult, what with there being only eight other people in the store and T.K.O. being the youngest there), his arms were already overflowing with the things he wanted her to buy. He all but dumped them into her waiting arms, and she got to work checking his findings: five identical pentagram shirts in three different sizes, a studded choker necklace, three sets of earrings- two skulls and a pair of onyx or obsidian studs- a strip of temporary tattoos, a belt loop chain, fifteen king-sized chocolate bars, and no less than seven CDs, all with parental advisory stickers. In the end, he got to keep two shirts, the tattoos, one chocolate bar, the choker (he already had spiked wristbands, so why not), and the studs; the latter he'd have to talk to K.O. about before he was allowed to get his ears pierced. T.K.O. complained loudly about not being able to keep the CDs- he loved Slapnot- but to his credit he didn't cause a scene.

The second the two were out of the store, T.K.O. fished one shirt out of the flimsy plastic bag looped around Carol's elbow. He started to remove his hoodie right there in the doorway, his bare stomach immediately making it clear that he hadn't bothered putting a shirt on underneath it.

"Woah there, kiddo!" Carol laughed uncomfortably, forcing the hoodie back down. "At least wait until we find a changing room!"

T.K.O. bared his teeth as a warning, not dignifying her with a verbal response. He did, however, put the shirt back in the bag, eyeing her rebelliously as he pulled out his choker and put that on instead. At least that didn't involve being half-naked in the middle of a busy mall.

Their next stop was a clothing store. T.K.O. frowned in distaste at the light, gentle colors of the shirts in the kids' section, but was pleasantly surprised to find some black t-shirts, as well as the purple hoodie he'd wanted. Once he'd found the changing rooms, he quickly got into a Hot Take shirt, tossing the blue hoodie into the bag. He immediately felt more like himself.

Draped over Carol's arm were three identical black shirts as well as the purple hoodie, and in her hand was a set of ponytails. T.K.O. gave her a stony look. "No."

"Come on, not even for mama?" Carol teased.

T.K.O. pulled a face. "I'd look like a girl."

"Nothing wrong with a little femininity," Carol replied easily. "Besides, I think one would look good on you. It might soften your features a bit."

T.K.O. scoffed. "I'm all spikes and sharp edges. I don't do soft." Carol continued to smile at him in that annoying way she did until he huffed in defeat. "If you wanna buy them, then fine, go ahead and waste your money. But I'm not gonna wear them."

Carol chuckled, silently marveling at how agreeable T.K.O. was being. The two of them were rarely, if ever, on pleasant terms; Carol found this change quite welcome. Never before had she imagined doing something like this with T.K.O., let alone witnessing him enjoying himself. Yes, he hid behind his ever-present emotional wall, but she knew she'd caught at least a couple of small smiles already.

With clothes out of the way for the time being, the next thing T.K.O. wanted was his own makeup kit. It took a few minutes, but the pair found a store that specialized in skin care, perfume, and the like. T.K.O. wrinkled his nose at the smell, and Carol couldn't blame him; she had yet to find such a store that didn't smell like a sharp mix of flowers and chemicals.

As Carol stayed near the entrance to find herself some new lipstick, T.K.O. searched for his favorite eyeliner. Passing through the perfume aisle, he picked up a random bottle of cologne that caught his eye. Spraying the air and giving it an experimental sniff, he hummed, spraying himself generously before putting it back. He moved on, smirking when he found the aisle he was looking for.

After finding her desired lipstick, Carol went to look for her son. She found him in short order, deciding between two handfuls of brushes. He turned around when Carol approached. His eyelids had taken on a more smoky quality, and his eyebrows looked fuller than they had coming into the store. He didn't look apologetic in the least. "Well, aren't you a little makeup connoisseur," Carol teased. T.K.O. rolled his eyes, his cheeks dusted pink with either happiness or discomfort. Possibly blush. "You find what you wanted?"

"Yeah," T.K.O. mumbled, holding out his picks of makeup- presumably the same as what he'd applied to himself- brushes, and glossy black nail polish. They left seconds later with their purchases, both of their stomachs unanimously deciding that it was time to eat.

The fourth floor was dedicated entirely to food stands and indoor restaurants. Seeing as it was around lunchtime, it was rather busy, but there was structured chaos in the form of several zigzagging lines. Carol anxiously looked at her son, but he seemed mostly unbothered. Maybe it really was just a touching thing.

"So what sounds good to you, hon?" she asked.

T.K.O. gave a noncommittal shrug. "I dunno. I could go for some tacos, I guess. Yeah, get me some tacos."

Carol raised one brow. "How do we ask for things, T.K.O.?"

T.K.O. rolled his eyes with a loud, obnoxious groan. "Get me some tacos, _please._ "

"...That's a little better. How many?"

"Eight."

"How about three?"

"Ugh, fine."

After a fifteen minute wait in line, Carol ordered the tacos, getting herself a burrito- she could always exercise it off later- as well as a small soda for each of them. She'd barely set the tray down before T.K.O. had reached for his food, devouring his first taco in two enormous bites, and starting on his second before Carol had managed her first bite. She was used to having a big eater in the house, raising a young boy and all, but K.O. was nothing in the face of the ravenous maw that his alter ego apparently was. Maybe she should have gotten four tacos instead?

"Where do you want to go next, sweetie?" Carol asked once she'd eaten most of her meal.

T.K.O., long finished with his own food, scowled harshly. Carol hadn't expected the pet name to fly, honestly. "Don't call me that."

"Haha, sorry, sorry."

"I saw a GameGo earlier. I want Mansion of the Deceased. Please," he added when Carol gave him a pointed look.

"You mean that violent zombie game? No can do. That game's got an M rating for a reason, mister."

"That's the point," T.K.O. groaned, but he let it drop. "Fine. Then I want a bench press. And a barbell, with the heaviest weights they've got."

Carol smirked, not sure if he was pulling her leg but proud nonetheless. "Maybe next time, kiddo. That equipment can get pretty expensive, and I gotta pay the bills at the end of the month. There's a bench press at the dojo in the meantime, if you want to stop by while K.O.'s off work."

T.K.O. wrinkled his nose. "As if I'd associate with a bunch of old hags." At Carol's scolding gaze, he had the decency to at least avert his eyes, but he stubbornly refused to apologize. "Well, if I can't get any more stuff, then can we just go home?"

Carol frowned. "I suppose we could. Are you sure you don't want to stay longer? There's plenty of daylight left."

"I want to go home," T.K.O. repeated firmly.

Holding up her hands in surrender, Carol said, "Okay, that's fine. We could always come back another time."

After Carol finished her burrito, the two took the stairs down to the first floor. T.K.O. flew over the crowd and landed by the entrance, Carol emerging seconds after him. They made their way to the tank-car, where T.K.O. buckled in without being asked. Carol nodded her approval, then navigated her way out of the parking lot.

On the way home, Carol decided to surprise T.K.O. with ice cream. His eyes bugged out once he saw the drive-thru menu, advertising everything from cones to banana splits. "That one," he said, pressing his finger against the window.

"I can't see where you're pointing, hon."

"Chocolate sundae. With sprinkles... please."

Carol smiled at him in the mirror. "One large chocolate sundae with sprinkles, coming right up!" T.K.O.'s eyes grew impossibly wider, unable to believe his luck. "You behaved yourself very well today," Carol explained. "I'd say that deserves a large. But just this once, you hear?"

T.K.O. gaped at the heaping dessert in his hands, unable to contain his awe. The thing was enormous (much larger than Carol was expecting, if she was being completely honest), threatening to spill over in its container. T.K.O. giggled madly, taking in far larger mouthfuls than his spoon should have allowed. "Oh, slow down sweetie, you're going to give yourself a..." Carol tried to warn him, but it was already too late. T.K.O.'s face screwed up in pain, and he threw his head back in the seat, clutching his skull with an anguished cry. "...brain freeze."

"Now she tells me," T.K.O. grumbled numbly.

T.K.O. had to wash his face first thing when they got home; he appeared to be wearing most of his ice cream. He tried to refuse, insisting that it would ruin his makeup, but gave in once he learned that it was even in his hair. He supposed he'd have a reason to give his new makeup kits a test run, at least.

When T.K.O. came out of the bathroom with fresh eyeliner, Carol asked him, "Would you like me to paint your nails for you, pumpkin?"

T.K.O. scowled at her. "I can do it myself."

"I know, but it sure is easier when you have help." Obviously, that wasn't a compelling argument for T.K.O. "You can watch TV while I paint them."

T.K.O. narrowed his eyes at her. "...There'd better be something good on."

As it turned out, the channels held nothing appealing for a Saturday afternoon. In the end, T.K.O. settled on some old TV show about sea monsters from outer space or something equally ridiculous. Despite the terrible special effects and subpar acting, he still offered one hand for Carol to take and get to work.

Once Carol finished painting T.K.O.'s right hand, she moved over to his other side, sneaking a glimpse at his face in passing. His eyelids drooped in the sullen way only someone who was truly bored could achieve, watching the show without really absorbing any of it. The corners of his mouth were downturned, but the usual creases indicating a frown were absent. So he wasn't completely miserable, at least. The fact that he was accepting any physical contact at all was proof of that.

When both hands were painted a shiny ebony, T.K.O. rested his palms on his knees, fingers curled outwards to keep them from smudging. He scrutinized his nails, free of the dark flakes on his skin that would have been there had he insisted on painting them himself. "It's not _terrible_ , I guess," he admitted. Carol figured that was as close to appreciation as she was going to get.

"While we wait for those to dry," she said, pulling the ponytails out of her pocket, "why don't we give some of these bad boys a try?"

T.K.O. recoiled and bared his teeth, showing just a little gum for good measure. "I don't want those things anywhere near me!" he snarled viciously.

"Please, just try one for me?" Carol pleaded. "If you don't like it, you can take it out. I only ask that you try it."

T.K.O.'s lips peeled back even further. "I won't! Nothing you say will _ever_ convince me to wear those stupid things!"

(~)

An hour or so later, Mr. Gar came into the house, and his boisterous greeting died in his throat at the sight that greeted him in the living room. Carol sat crosslegged on the floor, hands splayed to either side, her nails- including her bare feet- a deep indigo. Her already gorgeous lashes were full and dark, and her plump lips shone with gloss. On his knees behind her, sporting a high ponytail, was T.K.O., carefully working his mother's hair into a beautiful braid. He'd turned to glare at Mr. Gar with dark eyes, daring him to question the sight before him.

"W... Was that today?" Mr. Gar stuttered in confusion.

Carol just then noticed her boyfriend's presence. "Oh, hi Gene!" She made no move to go over and greet him; T.K.O.'s hold on her hair had become something of a death grip, so moving would surely result in excruciating pain. "We just got home a little while ago, and decided to do makeovers. Care to join us?"

"Yeah," T.K.O. chortled. "You want a makeover, _Gene?_ "

"...You know what? I think I'll have to pass." Mr. Gar whipped two finger guns in the general direction of the kitchen. "Why don't I just go ahead and start on dinner? I was thinking meatloaf."

"Meatloaf sounds wonderful," Carol gushed. T.K.O., however, rolled his eyes and groaned. On a scale of "almost likable" to "I want to wipe this person out of existence," Mr. Gar fluctuated in the vicinity of "reluctant and ultimately unwilling tolerance." He wasn't looking forward to eating the mush that the man was going to try assembling, in any case.

After Mr. Gar made the dinner preparations and put the meatloaf in the oven, he joined Carol and T.K.O. in the living room. By then Carol's hair was fully braided, and the two were sat on the couch, watching a movie that involved weaponized go-karts performing improbable stunts while racing through an active volcano in the arctic. Mr. Gar got comfortable on the couch, snuggling up to Carol's side. However, he decided to make himself scarce a few minutes later when T.K.O. started hissing and spitting (the action not as figurative as one would hope), only returning when the timer on the oven indicated that the meatloaf was ready.

"T.K.O., sweetie, could you please set out the silverware? Carol asked. T.K.O. spat a wet raspberry at her, but slid off of the couch and walked into the dining room with all the attitude he could muster.

Mr. Gar's eyebrows shot so high up that they nearly flew off of his forehead. "How did you get him to do that?" he murmured out of the corner of his mouth.

"I don't know," Carol whispered back, "but he's been like this all day, and I'm afraid to say anything because he might stop."

The couple walked into the dining room, finding the three sets of silverware, but one chair was pulled out as far as possible without crossing over into another room. T.K.O. was seated at the table, hands clasped, eyes scrunched by an overly polite but clearly amused smile. As Carol gave him a light scolding for being rude, Mr. Gar gulped.

Carol began to dish up dinner, while Mr. Gar pulled up his chair, taking the not-so-subtle hint and sitting on the opposite side of the table from where T.K.O. and his mother were going to sit. He then ate in uncomfortable silence as T.K.O. glared at him over his plate for a solid five minutes, stabbing his meatloaf with pointed aggression. "T.K.O., don't stare," Carol chided, to which her son shifted his loaded gaze to his food.

A few more tense minutes passed where no one said anything, their scraping forks being the only source of sound in the house aside from the ambient television set. "...So," Carol finally began, "what do you think of the meatloaf, T.K.O.?"

T.K.O. gave her a slow, sidelong glance, his stormy expression settling into a grimace. "...Edible, I guess..." he muttered after a substantial pause.

"I'm glad you like it," Carol beamed, and T.K.O. bolted upright, looking startled and quite offended.

"It's fine, Carol," Mr. Gar hurriedly stammered. The last time he'd seen an expression like that on T.K.O., things hadn't exactly gone well for the citizens at the plaza. "Whether he likes it or not, he doesn't _have_ to say anything."

"Shut up," T.K.O. hissed, "and don't talk about me like I'm not here."

"T.K.O., mind your manners," Carol scolded him.

"What? It's not like he _really_ cares about me."

Mr. Gar meekly raised a finger. "A-Actually, I-"

"I told you to shut up!" T.K.O. shouted, gripping his fork tightly enough to bend it. "All you care about is your dumb store and sleeping in my mom's room! You're only being nice so that you can get closer to _her!_ Well, you're not fooling anyone! You should just do us all a favor and leave!"

"T.K.O.! Room, now!" Carol barked. T.K.O. yelled in frustration, shoving his plate to the ground and stomping to his room.

With a restrained sigh, Carol combed one hand over her scalp, bending down to pick up the shattered pieces of the plate. Mr. Gar rested a hand on her shoulder, kneeling next to her. "Let me do that."

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Gene," said Carol, eyes downcast. "He's been so well-behaved all day. I had no idea he was going to have an outburst like that. I'm sure he didn't mean it."

"He did," Mr. Gar replied, picking up the tiny pieces of ceramic and chunks of half-chewed meat. "But you can't blame him for that. He grew up without a father, so it can't be easy to have me around. We barely talked to K.O. about this, and we haven't talked to T.K.O. at all. A little anger's probably to be expected."

Carol stared down the hallway for a moment, quiet. "What am I going to do, Gene?"

"Just do what you think is best for him," said Mr. Gar, giving her a small, reassuring smile. "But whatever that is, I should probably steer clear for a little while. I'm pretty sure he wants nothing to do with me."

Carol let out an amused chuckle, dampened by thoughtful concern. "I should go check up on him. I wouldn't put it past him to destroy K.O.'s room."

Mr. Gar nodded, briefly resting his head on Carol's shoulder. "I'll be in here if you need anything."

Carol sighed, standing so that she could leave. But before she did, she put her hands on Mr. Gar's shoulders, thumbs massaging small circles on the back of his neck. "I know T.K.O.'s got some issues to resolve, but he's not a bad kid. I know he'll warm up to you eventually." She slid away from him, not waiting for a response before making her way to K.O.'s- she supposed now also T.K.O.'s- room. Minimizing the damage took priority.

The room was a little messy, but nothing like what Carol had expected. There were clothes strewn about near the closet, most likely from that morning. A couple of posters had been torn from the wall, leaving scraps of laminated paper behind, and a pillow had been thrown across the room, but that was the extent of the damage. T.K.O. himself lay on the bed, invisible beneath the mound of blankets he'd wrapped himself in. If Carol hadn't seen this exact scenario in K.O.'s younger years, she almost could have thought he was sleeping.

Carol gently sat down on the edge of the bed, giving T.K.O. a moment of peace and quiet before speaking. "How are you doing, pumpkin?" She received no answer, of course. She sighed. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Gmmn hmmnrr," T.K.O. grumbled through the blankets, his muffled words a definite dismissal.

"I know it's hard to have Gene around," Carol pressed on. "Trust me, I've been there. I know what it's like to have someone just suddenly come into your life. It's confusing, even scary. I know you're upset, and that's okay."

T.K.O. shifted, a small portion of his face becoming visible. "You're just saying that."

"I'm not, honey. I promise you I'm not." Carol placed her hand on top of T.K.O.'s head. He flinched, but didn't retreat. "It's totally normal to be angry. I don't blame you for that. I can't tell you to like him, or to be happy that he's here. But he _is_ here, so I need you to be a little kinder to him for me, okay?"

"Why?" T.K.O. quietly demanded. "He was never kind to me. He was only pretending before because you told him to. He never meant it."

Carol guiltily looked away, remembering the day in question. "Nobody really knew what to do with you back then," she admitted. "Sometimes we still don't. But we're trying, all of us, and that includes Gene. So please, could you give him a chance, like you gave to me today?"

T.K.O. went dead silent. Carol sighed once more when she didn't get an answer, lightly ruffling his hair before letting her hand rest at her side. She gave him a weary smile, pushing herself off of the bed and making her way to the door. Saying anything more would likely push T.K.O. further away; she could only hope that this would be enough for now.

T.K.O., on his part, was at least considering her words. He didn't intend to play nice with Mr. Gar by any means. He didn't want to give the guy a chance at all. Any time he had done so for others in the past, he'd found something about them that made him dislike them just a little less. Dendy regretted her past actions. Rad and Enid wanted to include him. K.O. helped him understand himself. Carol showed him kindness. But Mr. Gar wanted to be his dad, and he didn't want that for himself. He couldn't be their dad. He was never their dad. They didn't need him. T.K.O. didn't want to put forth the effort to be nicer to him, because if he did, then he might start to genuinely like the guy. Frankly, the thought terrified him.

Tossing the blankets aside, T.K.O. trudged to the desk where K.O. kept his POW card binder. He flipped through the laminated pockets until he'd found his own card. At some point, he learned, he'd risen to a healthy 3.5. He slammed the binder shut, gritting his teeth.

Darn it all.

(~)

Mr. Gar had just swept up the last of the mess when T.K.O. came into the dining room, expression dark and unreadable. Confused and slightly alarmed, Mr. Gar became rigid, sweating profusely. He wasn't expecting to see T.K.O. again so soon. Considering his mood not fifteen minutes ago, the meeting probably meant nothing good.

T.K.O. stared him down for nearly a minute, making Mr. Gar squirm uncomfortably. T.K.O.'s empty gaze became a scrutinizing glare that only worsened as time passed. Just as Mr. Gar started to fear the worst, T.K.O. deflated, letting out a long breath as if bracing himself.

Mr. Gar blinked away the sudden stinging sensation as his world got brighter. Once he could finally see, he saw T.K.O. with his sunglasses, teeth bared in a devilish grin. As the man watched with dumbfounded confusion, he slipped the sunglasses over his own eyes. Then without warning, he took off.

"Wh-ph-ph- _hey!_ " Mr. Gar sputtered, hot on his heels. T.K.O. cackled at his expense, running around the house- and occasionally up the walls- as Mr. Gar chased him down, ducking and weaving whenever the man made a grab for his sunglasses. "Get back here, you little rascal!"

"They're mine now, slowpoke!" T.K.O. yelled over his shoulder, jumping as Mr. Gar lashed out again. Carol shook her head and laughed as T.K.O. and Mr. Gar ran back and forth, the former always just out of reach.

Once T.K.O. had had his fill of terrorizing Mr. Gar, he made a mad dash for his room, slamming the door and locking it behind him. He smirked evilly when he heard Mr. Gar run into it. Fool.

T.K.O. took off the sunglasses, lazily tossing them onto K.O.'s desk; he was sure that his alter would return them first chance he got, not that it really mattered. He flopped backwards onto the bed, spread-eagled, and stared at the ceiling, still smirking.

T.K.O. didn't like having Mr. Gar around. He'd be happier if he never had to see a faker like him. But Carol was right; he was here to stay, whether he liked it or not. It wasn't like he was someone who could be chased off. In a world full of weaklings, he was one of the strongest. T.K.O. could at least recognize that. But Mr. Gar was still nothing compared to him, so he could put up with his presence. He'd probably find something to like about Mr. Gar in the process, but that was fine. He'd have fun pushing all of his buttons until then.

T.K.O. closed his eyes, going over the day before Mr. Gar had ruined it. He'd gotten some clothes and makeup of his own, which was nice. He also got to eat a ton of ice cream, which was arguably even better. And Carol didn't act like he was about to lose it the whole time, even when he almost did. She treated him like any other kid, but not in an annoying, baby-talk way. She was patient with him, something that even K.O. often wasn't. She didn't put up with his attitude, but she wasn't condescending about it, either. Everyone cowered in the face of his rage, but not her. Not this time. He kind of hoped that kept up.

T.K.O. sighed contentedly, a tiny smile gracing his lips. All in all, he'd say it was a pretty good day. He could get used to more like it, not that he'd ever admit that to anyone. He really _hoped_ there would be more like it.

He opened his eyes slowly, feeling more calm than he had in a long time. _When in the world did I get so soft?_

(~)

Two days later, Carol dropped K.O. off for work. "Have a good day, kiddo!" she said with a grin, scooping him up and peppering his cheek with kisses.

K.O. laughed, squirming until Carol finally put him down. "Okay, mommy, I will! Bye!"

As K.O. entered the bodega, waving behind himself at his mom, Rad and Enid rushed over to greet him. "Hi, K.O.!" they said in unison.

"Hey guys!" K.O. chirped, running to grab his beloved mop from where it rested against a shelf. He immediately got to work mopping the floor, even though there was no mess to clean.

"Sooo, how did your super duper special T.K.O. day go?" Rad asked, leaning coolly against a gauntlet display.

K.O. smiled cheerfully. "It went really well, actually! Everyone was super nice to each other- well, mostly- and T.K.O. had a lot of fun! He didn't say so, but I know he did!"

"Cool," said Enid, kicking back in her chair and pulling out her phone. "About time he got out and actually did stuff."

K.O. absently pushed his hair behind his ear to scratch an itch beneath his headband. "Yeah! We're definitely going to do stuff like that a lot from now on!" When he looked up, both Rad and Enid were staring at him with wide eyes. "...What?"

"K.O.," Rad exclaimed, "when did you start wearing earrings?!"

* * *

 **Whew, that's a lot of words.**

 **I had a lot of headcanons pop up that I didn't even know I had until I wrote this, the most major one being that T.K.O. is enochlophobic (afraid of crowds). It comes from a combination of touch aversion, mild claustrophobia (from his time in the cage, though rather tame), and unrealistic ideas on people's expectations of him. He doesn't recognize it as fear, and doesn't want to acknowledge it, instead attributing his totally-not-panic to not wanting to be touched and his usual angry disposition. Likewise, K.O. is claustrophobic from that time where T.K.O. first emerged (and also the Dendy and Boxman Jr. incidents), but it takes time for the fear to set in. This fear is more of the elevator, closet, and low ceiling variety. Also, Carol understanding the "new person" thing didn't come out of nowhere. I feel like she had a missing parental figure in her life, and part of her overwhelming love for K.O. comes from her determination to give her kid better than she had.**

 **I should note that my main fears are spiders and needles, not crowds and tight spaces. I can't speak for people who have these fears, but I did my best to make the symptoms and reactions somewhat realistic. Hopefully no one got overly anxious reading that scene, though.**

 **Part 5 is in the works, and we'll be having a character that was regrettably missing in this one. ;) I will most likely have it done before October, so stay tuned!**


End file.
